Learning to Love Ourselves, A Composite Narrative
by Jennifer Geiger, EdD, MT-BC
This is a love story. But not the kind you might imagine. This love story flows from pain, from insight, and from desire. The pain of never being good enough. The insight that more is possible, if one is open. And the desire to do differently, to be differently than one has become.
We start out in relationship, the result of lust or friendship, which grows into a lifelong commitment to each other. We agree to compromise and to support one another. But we cannot count on how life could upend our romance, on how things would change so significantly in our relationship because our spouse is a first responder. The job is grueling. Our spouse is a hero to many, a villain to some. The hours are relentless: mandatory overtime, midnight callouts. But the commitment to family was made, so our loved one drags himself to family functions, holiday parties, dance recitals, baseball games, concerts, and soccer practice. Until he doesn’t. Because he can’t.
We find ourselves making excuses first to friends, then family, then to our children about why Daddy can’t come. Can’t get out of bed. Can’t get away from the bottle. Is he an alcoholic? Or is he self-medicating, trying to make the demons of his job—or his childhood— disappear? Maybe he’s spending extravagantly, engaging with prostitutes, or exhibiting other risky behaviors. He can’t get away from drugs, from food. He’s using things to distract him from his hurt. But these are the things we don’t talk about. We put up with his rage, his depression, his anxiety. His distance. We see him trying to numb the pain of reality. There is no debriefing the death of a baby at work. They just have to keep “shagging calls.” Their lieutenant thinks they’re faking the back injury after falling through a roof during a house fire. Work wants them to “snap out of it,” “man up,” or “get over it, already.”
Things are worse when they get physically violent: slapping us, hitting us; or emotionally abusive: ignoring us, icing us out. Using threats of suicide to manipulate us. Or maybe we are seen as the enemy, so they lie, sneak around, are extremely jealous and suspicious. There may be constant fear of knowing that our loved one is suicidal but refuses help. We can’t tell the department because he could lose his job. And then where would we be?
So, we over-function for them—we do everything we can to keep them calm, make their lives easier. Or make our lives easier to keep them from flying off the handle at the littlest thing. We do everything so much that they begin to feel helpless, like they can’t do anything for fear of setting us off. The cycle is vicious and never ending. We feel helpless, hopeless, and worthless. Our codependency has reduced our self-esteem to ash. We know there is a problem, but we have no idea who we can turn to, who we can trust, or if anyone would even understand.
Enter the retreat community: spouses and significant others of first responders who have been there. They understand. The community provides compassion, reassurance, and tools to help us get out from under the bad habits we have created to survive a first responder who has been diagnosed with PTS. It is not easy to unlearn, it is not easy to practice. But in a supportive environment, transformation is possible. SOS is a “back to myself” 6-day retreat program that provides care for care providers. By excavating the muck of self-doubt, we unearth the jewels that we are. The knowledge we are worth our own time and energy. We take the step forward we need to take so we can learn to love ourselves.
By Jennifer D. Geiger, EdD, MT-BC
February 13, 2023, Doctoral Dissertation excerpt
complete paper at: https://www.proquest.com/dissertations-theses/spouses-first-responders-narrativeinquiry/docview/2777434889/se-2
We start out in relationship, the result of lust or friendship, which grows into a lifelong commitment to each other. We agree to compromise and to support one another. But we cannot count on how life could upend our romance, on how things would change so significantly in our relationship because our spouse is a first responder. The job is grueling. Our spouse is a hero to many, a villain to some. The hours are relentless: mandatory overtime, midnight callouts. But the commitment to family was made, so our loved one drags himself to family functions, holiday parties, dance recitals, baseball games, concerts, and soccer practice. Until he doesn’t. Because he can’t.
We find ourselves making excuses first to friends, then family, then to our children about why Daddy can’t come. Can’t get out of bed. Can’t get away from the bottle. Is he an alcoholic? Or is he self-medicating, trying to make the demons of his job—or his childhood— disappear? Maybe he’s spending extravagantly, engaging with prostitutes, or exhibiting other risky behaviors. He can’t get away from drugs, from food. He’s using things to distract him from his hurt. But these are the things we don’t talk about. We put up with his rage, his depression, his anxiety. His distance. We see him trying to numb the pain of reality. There is no debriefing the death of a baby at work. They just have to keep “shagging calls.” Their lieutenant thinks they’re faking the back injury after falling through a roof during a house fire. Work wants them to “snap out of it,” “man up,” or “get over it, already.”
Things are worse when they get physically violent: slapping us, hitting us; or emotionally abusive: ignoring us, icing us out. Using threats of suicide to manipulate us. Or maybe we are seen as the enemy, so they lie, sneak around, are extremely jealous and suspicious. There may be constant fear of knowing that our loved one is suicidal but refuses help. We can’t tell the department because he could lose his job. And then where would we be?
So, we over-function for them—we do everything we can to keep them calm, make their lives easier. Or make our lives easier to keep them from flying off the handle at the littlest thing. We do everything so much that they begin to feel helpless, like they can’t do anything for fear of setting us off. The cycle is vicious and never ending. We feel helpless, hopeless, and worthless. Our codependency has reduced our self-esteem to ash. We know there is a problem, but we have no idea who we can turn to, who we can trust, or if anyone would even understand.
Enter the retreat community: spouses and significant others of first responders who have been there. They understand. The community provides compassion, reassurance, and tools to help us get out from under the bad habits we have created to survive a first responder who has been diagnosed with PTS. It is not easy to unlearn, it is not easy to practice. But in a supportive environment, transformation is possible. SOS is a “back to myself” 6-day retreat program that provides care for care providers. By excavating the muck of self-doubt, we unearth the jewels that we are. The knowledge we are worth our own time and energy. We take the step forward we need to take so we can learn to love ourselves.
By Jennifer D. Geiger, EdD, MT-BC
February 13, 2023, Doctoral Dissertation excerpt
complete paper at: https://www.proquest.com/dissertations-theses/spouses-first-responders-narrativeinquiry/docview/2777434889/se-2